Emotional Advice - 2
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Waiting for his Saturday connection with a lot on his head, Blaine gets some advice from a sage young man on the subway platform. Fluff and pining. Klaine. Kurt H. Blaine A.


**Written using the Advent Drabble prompts audience, early, guess, hello, kiss, laugh, music, opportunity, part, quirk, and sign. Assumes that Kurt and Blaine were best friends in high school, but never dated, Based on this post - post/154815321439/babylonsagent-i-rather-be-lost.**

"You look like a man with a lot on his mind."

Blaine, waiting for his Midtown connection, looks left and right. It's a Saturday morning. There's not too many people on this particular platform, not even the usual gaggle of musicians playing for change, so the absence of a person to put the voice to confuses him.

"Hello?" Blaine calls out.

"Over here," the voice says.

Blaine looks behind him and down.

A few feet away, a young boy sits at a portable TV table, hands folded, staring up at him. He doesn't look like he could be any older than middle school age – eleven, twelve at the most. There's a handwritten sign taped to the edge of his table that says "Emotional Advice $2". The boy has set up in the center of the platform, not ten feet from the steps. Blaine has no clue how he could have missed him on his way down.

But then again, the boy's right. Blaine _does_ have a lot on his mind.

"I do," Blaine confirms.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" the boy asks.

"I … well, I'm not sure how much good it would do, to be honest."

"You never know till you find out." The boy gestures to an unoccupied folding chair across from him.

"I …" Blaine looks at his watch. 9:10. Blaine's running early, and his train is never on time anyway. "Alright." He reaches into his pocket for his wallet, hoping that he remembered to bring more with him than plastic. He discovers that he did, but just barely. "Do you have change for a five?" he asks, holding up the bill.

"You're my first customer of the day," the boy answers with a one-armed shrug. Blaine sighs. He sits and hands the boy the fiver. Blaine doesn't really need it. Maybe this boy does. Plus, Blaine can appreciate his entrepreneurial spirit. Anyone can hold out a hat and ask for money. This boy has a shtick.

Having sung in show choirs most of his life, Blaine can appreciate shtick.

Besides, Blaine's therapist has been charging his insurance company in upwards of a hundred bucks an hour for years, and it hasn't seemed to help. $5 for someone to listen for a few minutes is actually quite the bargain.

"Have at it," the boy says, sticking the bill into his pocket. "What's on your mind?"

"Okay." Blaine shifts uncomfortably in the chair. It's thin and it's metal. It squeaks every time he moves, and makes him very aware of the fact that the slacks he's wearing are an inch too tight around the waist. He manages to settle into as un-awkwardly a position as possible, folds his hands in his lap, and begins. "There's this … uh … _person_ that I like."

"Tall guy, right? Fancy hair? Dresses like the store front mannequin at Saks?"

Blaine's eyes pop with surprise. "Yeah! How …" Blaine lowers his voice when he realizes he's yelling. "How did you know?"

"I've seen you guys down here once or twice. He's sorta emotionally reserved, but you … you're _really_ obvious."

"Oh." Blaine's slightly embarrassed by that, but he continues on. "You're rather perceptive."

"Havta be in my business. Please, continue."

"O-kay. Anyway, he's just … he's incredible. He's talented, kind, compassionate, handsome … the man of my dreams, really. I've been dreaming about a man like him for a long, _long_ time."

The boy nods while Blaine talks, completely focused, taking in every word, and Blaine can't help but be impressed by this young man's commitment to his enterprise. He hasn't even given Blaine a word of advice, and yet Blaine already feels like this conversation is five dollars well spent.

"We're great friends," Blaine continues. "We like the same books, the same music, the same movies. We're alike in almost every conceivable way. He's my perfect match."

"Sounds great," the boy says. "So, what's the problem?"

"The problem is he's my best friend in the world. We went to high school together, moved to New York together. I've lost a lot of friends between then and now. If I lost _him_ , I wouldn't have anyone. I can't risk that. Not for anything."

"Not even for the opportunity to find out if this friendship could turn into something bigger? He could be the great love of your life."

"He already _is_ the great love of my life."

"Yeah, but does he know that yet?"

Blaine looks down at his hands, still folded, the thumb of his right rubbing over the thumb of his left. "No."

"Well, did you ever think that by not telling him how you feel, you're keeping him from finding the great love of _his_ life? I mean, he's your best friend, he moves out here with you, you've stayed friends this whole time, he's your perfect match … maybe he feels the same way you do. He just doesn't know how to tell you."

Blaine shrugs. The boy's right, but Blaine's still not sure that taking that chance is the best idea. Blaine's been sheltered. He'll be the first person to admit it. When Blaine was younger, he gleaned all of his life lessons from movies, mainly musicals. When high school turned out to be nothing like the movie _Grease_ , he was _sorely_ disappointed. Because things don't turn out the way they do in the movies. Life doesn't always have a happy ending. And if he can't get his happy ending with Kurt as lovers, then he'll take the happy ending where they grow old as lifelong friends. The only way Blaine can see that happening is if Kurt never knows.

But what if Kurt _does_ feel that way and Blaine never finds out because neither of them say anything?

"I really don't know what to do," Blaine admits. "It'd be the happiest day of my life if I told him I loved him, and I found out he loved me back. But I don't want him to hate me, either."

"Don't you think you should be giving your _best friend_ a little more credit?" the boy asks. "I mean, it sounds to me like he already kinda does love you. But even if he doesn't, if I were him, I'd be more upset to find out you didn't think I could handle the truth."

Blaine suddenly feels ashamed. He hadn't thought of it that way. "I guess that makes sense. I just don't know where to start."

"And _I love you_ won't cut it?"

Blaine's mouth quirks in the corners, climbing into a grin at the boy's sassiness. "Maybe I'm looking for a way of telling him that's a little less _in your face_."

"Then _man_ , are you living in the wrong place!" The boy shakes his head and laughs. "Let me tell you something - the great thing about New York is it's the city of dreams. But dreams don't wait. Everything's _in your face_ here. Nothing's subtle. If you live here, you have to expect the unexpected, and when it comes, you have to expect it to slap you upside the face."

"You know, I've lived here for _years_ , I've seen a lot of crazy stuff, and I'm still not sure I've learned that yet," Blaine admits.

"Well, here's your first lesson." The boy smiles. He leans across the table. "Turn around."

Blaine doesn't have to follow the boy's eyes up to know. He's felt him there for the past few minutes, but Blaine just thought that the two of them, sitting at this little table, talking together like old friends, had begun to attract an audience. Blaine turns his body, then his head, gaze climbing up the McQueen slacks and dress shirt behind him till he finds Kurt's smiling face.

"Hey," Blaine pushes up from the chair, but it takes him two tries to rise to his feet.

"Hey," Kurt says with a fond smile and nervous chuckle. "I was hoping you'd be here."

"You were?" Blaine asks. Kurt nods, and Blaine's neck flushes pink. "Uh … just out of curiosity … how … much of that did you hear?"

"All of it," Kurt admits, biting his lower lip.

"Ah," Blaine says, the note cracking. "And, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to run screaming right now?"

Kurt playfully rolls his eyes up, giving the matter no thought whatsoever. "About … negative 2000."

Blaine feels that pink flush on his neck creep to his cheeks. "Negative 2000, huh?"

"Yeah. And F.Y.I., that number's steadily falling."

"Phew!" Blaine blows out a dramatic sigh. "That's a relief."

"By the way, the kid's right, you know."

"I'm beginning to see that," Blaine says, "but about which part exactly?"

"The part where you should have given me credit," Kurt says in a more serious tone. "The part where I would have rather known the truth. The part where … I love you, too."

Blaine's eyebrows rise up slowly. "You … you do?"

"Yes. I do. I'm actually a little surprised you didn't catch on earlier."

"Yeah, well, apparently I'm not the brightest man in the world when it comes to you."

"You consulted a professional. That's a start."

"True, but … where do we go from here?"

"You guys go to Midtown," the boys says, knocking on his table to get their attention. "Your train's here. And I'm expecting other customers."

"Oh! Yeah. Sorry." Blaine takes Kurt's arm and moves away from the boy's table. "We should … would you come with me? I'll buy you some coffee, and we can talk?"

Kurt nods, maneuvering out of Blaine's grip to loop their arms together. "That sounds like a plan. I'd love to."

The oncoming train speeds to a stop. The warning alarm tolls, and the doors slide open. Arm in arm, Blaine leads Kurt aboard. They find a space on the mostly empty train and sit down together. They turn towards each other. They pull in close. And before the doors close again, the boy sees them tilt in towards one another, Blaine kissing first with the widest smile imaginable on his face. The boy shakes his head.

Can't get any more _in your face_ than that.

The boy watches the subway pull away and sighs. He takes out a pen and draws a tally mark beside a growing group of tallies at the top of his sign.

"Another satisfied customer," he mutters while he quietly considers raising his prices.

* * *

 _A/N: If you read the post, you'll notice the boy is from Bushwick. This really just prompted itself xD_


End file.
